Bring me your dreams and your nightmares, your broken bunnies and inflatable friends, your pocket universes and hero’s gurneys and sentence fragments and eldritch ellipses. I promise to make you uncomfortable. Still time to sign up.
Richard Thomas is the author of Disintegration and Breaker; he’s Dark House editor of Burnt Black Tongues and The New Black (my favorite anthology of last year) and Exigencies. He’s also a columnist and fellow instructor a LitReactor, sought after Transylvanian panelist and now… Richard has started this Kickstarter project that I’m proud to be a part of. $30 gets you a years worth of balls to the wall fiction, essays, poetry, a whole gamut of shamelessly transgressive words from the likes of Palahniuk, Stephen Graham Jones and Amelia Gray, Helen Marshall, among others, including self.
Here’s a peek at the line-up, excluding poets and artists: Stephen Graham Jones, Laird Barron, Brian Evenson, Usman T. Malik, Matt Bell, Damien Angelica Walters, Letitia Trent, Mercedes M. Yardley, Alyssa Wong, Benjamin Percy, Lindsay Hunter, Axel Taiari, Amanda Gowin, Laura Benedict, Nathan Ballingrud, Dino Parenti, Ted E. Grau, Rebecca Jones-Howe, Sarah Read, Paula Bomer, Kelly Luce, Livia Llewelyn, Josh Malerman, Carmen Machado, Peter Tieryas, Kevin Catalano, Paul Tremblay, John Langan, Nina McConigley, Nik Korpon, Craig Wallwork, Steve Himmer, Antonia Crane, Steve Rasnic Tem, Kristi DeMeester, Tara Ison, David James Keaton, Cassandra Khaw, Nikki Guerlain, Lucy A. Snyder, JS Breukelaar, Helen Marshall, Amelia Gray, H. L. Nelson, Craig Davidson, Jacklyn Dre Marceau, and Lincoln Michel.
Imagine this coming into your inbox every month. Not to mention craft essays, podcasts, and a graphic novel. Heaven with a twist.
Go ahead and browse the campaign, only 22 days to go. There are editing packages, signed books from your fave authors, postcards and art rewards. As little as $10 buys you a written acknowledgement, or if money’s too tight to mention right now, appreciate you spreading the word and sending us your good vibes.
My uncle and aunt drive us down to the launch and they are there in the back with my husband and cousin – sirens and choppers overhead as soon as I start to read – I’m last. I talk about the Proctor Valley monster with Lizz Huerta after the reading. She grew up with it. Everyone was too scared to go out on Proctor Valley Road after dark, she said. They knew it was out there.
And so the countdown begins. In just over a week, I’ll be heading to my second hometown, to read along with fellow contributors, Zack Wentz, Heather Fowler and others, from States of Terror: Vol 2. I snagged a local monster for my story, you could call him a history monster, stubborn as hell and old as shame. Thanks to editors Matt Lewis and Keith McCleary for doing this.
I wrote a piece on rejection inspired by a student who has, by way of their first rejection slip, joined our family of the damned. You can read it at Vol.1.Brooklyn, a great little lit mag taking lollipop steps all over the intersphere.
For TW and RN.
Win-win: Thank you so much to the voters at Bizarro Central for this Wonderland Award nod. I have a literary crush on all the nominees, so I’m basking in the total glow.
Thanks to my publisher, Cameron Pierce of Lazy Fascist Press for throwing Norma and the gang into the ring. The James Tiptree Jr Award is named after the pen name of the feminist sci-fi writer Alice B. Sheldon, and is “given to a writer who explores and expands our notion of gender.” Norma’s up against some pretty fierce contenders—William Gibson’s Peripheral, for instance, one of my favorite books for 2015—and to be honest, I’m not sure how the process works, but it’s nice to be a part of it. To celebrate, here’s a gender bending excerpt:
“There was a collapsed building between the Bakersfield Greyhound and a windowless tavern called The Trap. A curtain flapped from one of the broken building’s upper floor windows. Norm found a relatively sound room on the top floor with a bunch of jerry-rigged bolts on the door, some of which still worked, and a hole blown out of the ceiling where the rain came in. There was a mattress on the floor that would come in handy to recuperate on, and Norm lugged it away from the hole. Half of the building was rubble, the rest about to be, so the smell and the noise from the protocol would not around suspicion.
Norms were horn hunters, each identical to yet logically discernible from the others. Mommy had many Norms in the Before, all named after the set of algorithms or prohibitions that constrained the hunter from turning against and hunting down its maker. Mommy selected this Norm for its appetites, its sensory acumen—in particular its sense of smell—and its physical stamina. But in the misguided notion that it would take one to know one, Mommy had given the horn hunter a horn of its own. Read more
Tobias Carroll, Volume 1 Brooklyn founder, talked to some of us about weird stuff at Lit Hub.
This came out a while ago, but just unearthed my contributor copies which look pretty sexy. Great cover art work by Ashlyn Fenton, and works by Tantra Bensko, RAchell Kendall, Nancy Collins, Alex Dally MacFarlane, Deb Hoag, Janis Butler Holm, Nikki Guerlain, and Peg Wheeler, among so many others. My story, “Going Down” is there, and I wrote about writing about this story here one of my all time dreadfullest rejection experiences.
Oh, and check out the book, here
This review dropped today. Unending thanks to Weird Fiction Review, a publication I’ve been following forever, and Seb Doubinsky (Goodbye Babylon, and most recently, White City) a writer I’ve been reading forever.
That picture is out the window of the Surfliner between San Diego and LA, the ride that got it all started.